Raj Kamal Bisht
They say that you get to know how much you are loved only when you die, for how manypeople come and mourn at your funeral measures the impact you made and the void you left.But it's not the complete truth though, for they don't talk about the people who die when you die,or people who silently watch from a distance, neither they talk about the people who curlthemselves in the dark corner of their bedrooms and sob quietly. And how unfortunate I was, to be robbed-off of even the last pyres that one is entitled to,I probably rotted in the deep trenches of west pacific or was feasted upon by the great whitesharks or who knows carried to the icy pole by the north current to remain frozen forever. Andso there was no official service, nobody gathered, people whoever they were, sniveled in theseclusion of their sanctuaries. I recount as I saw it, there was my mother, who shed a tear,probably for the first time she felt me, my father acted numb, a continuance of his pretentiousexistence, my sister Mihika lost it all for I was her only family, Ihita broke down, unable to bear any further the atrocities of fate, Vairagi laughed as usual but there was a certain sadness to it,Niyati lived to see the day, only one of us could have survived, but her existence wasmeaningless, for she failed in her objective, and there was the world which sighed in peace, for the song of destruction, just fizzled away.What about friends? People who masquerade as your well wishers, people who usehypocrisy as a shield and as a sword. He was a good man, that's all the sycophants said. Thecollege had its own special way of mourning, dean declared the holiday, and the studentscelebrated. I watched everything, I watched as my life folded into a cube of molecular dimensionand I couldn't help but wonder what I would do differently if I had the second chance.How much affect does love has on the life of a common fly? Does love has a meaningbeyond the shallowness of greed and fear? Selfishness hiding in the charades of love, hatred just wanting an excuse to come out.If somebody had to take the blame for my death, it would be the institution, for it filled mewith the desires and sparked the dreams inside. I couldn't see my life lied somewhere else, myego couldn't see the people who cared, I just saw the empty hope of a shining future that timepromised me. With open arms I embraced the shackles, and in no time I found myself enclosedin a shell, a blanket of cocoon wrapped over me, I could move but within the limits of a mould.To begin with I was never opposed to the idea of the institution or the society, but nor Ihad been in favor of it. Is there really such a thing as society outside the barriers of our minds?Does or can a free will exist under such authoritarian regime? Institution - a self imposedtotalitarian government? A set of moral obligations defined by the norms of society that goesagainst the individual's own happiness. Why to bear unbearable pain and why to go to painfullengths to appease someone we don't know? to get the validation of people who blatantly pass judgments, who are they to say who's worthy and who’s not? Who are they to tell us what iswrong and what is right?
Just Who Are They
? Who shovel down our throats clumps of fastfood? Who makes us think we are beautiful and we are ugly? What is beautiful and uglyanyway? What is aesthetics anyway? Who makes us want something that we don’t need? fancyapparels, a television, a telephone, a motorcar, an apartment? Can't the self-fulfillment be
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